


Wolfstar Christmas Coffee Shop AU

by simplysirius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Angst and Feels, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Relationship(s), Remus x Sirius, coffee shop AU, sirius x remus, wolfstar, wolfstar angst, wolfstar fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:35:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplysirius/pseuds/simplysirius
Summary: When Remus' flight gets canceled and he doesn't go home for the holidays, he spends Christmas at a coffee shop, where barista Sirius helps him with his Christmas blues.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 117





	Wolfstar Christmas Coffee Shop AU

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr @simplysirius for daily fics and fanart! I also take requests :)

The streets were quiet as Remus shuffled down the sidewalk, face buried deep in a red and gold scarf, hat pulled low over his head, a book tucked under his arm, careful to avoid patches of ice and chunks of snow. A few cars rumbled down the road, Christmas music seeping out from cracked windows. It didn’t feel like Christmas. Not since Remus’ flight home got canceled and he learned he’d have to spend his first Christmas without his family, in a strange city where he knew nobody, not even his neighbor in the flat over, who has watched The Grinch approximately fourteen times in the last three days. Remus knew he should have rented a flat with thicker walls.

The storm had dumped twelve inches of snow on the city, grounding all flights and leaving Remus stranded in a cold apartment, because the heater had decided to give him an early Christmas present by crapping out not three days ago. Even his thickest wool socks weren’t enough to keep the cold out of his bones.

Remus thought he could have his own little Christmas, buy a little roast, peel some potatoes, bake those premade cookies with reindeer stamped on them, but when he slipped his way to the store, there was no ham, no potatoes, and the only box of cookies he could find were out of date.

The more he sat in his flat, the more desolate he grew. He didn’t want to listen to Christmas music, didn’t want to watch Christmas movies, didn’t want to look at the little tree he had set up in the corner of his living room. Instead, he grabbed a well-worn book from his shelf, buckled his boots on, and stepped out onto the streets in the direction of his favorite coffee shop.

It was the first place he had visited when he jumped off the plane, tosses his luggage into his empty flat, and took to the streets to explore this new city of opportunity. Remus was so bright-eyed then, not yet disenchanted by the garbage clogged in the storm drains or the dreary weather that never seemed to break. The coffee shop was tucked away in a little alley next to an apothecary, with vines crawling up the old stone façade and beautiful flowers growing in planters in the heat of the summer. It was quiet enough to concentrate, but populated enough to feel like there was a sense of life, too.

The handsome barista wasn’t such a bad perk, either.

Remus had only dared admire from afar, careful to never let their fingers brush when the boy handed him his tea – Earl gray, no milk, a spoonful of honey – and made sure to hide his face behind a book when he peered over the pages to watch him shake up a latte or reach overhead for more cups. The thought of seeing the boy on such a depressing day kept Remus warm all the way to the shop, but he figured the boy must be with his family or his girlfriend. A boy like that was too beautiful to not have someone to share his life with.

Remus tried to remain inconspicuous as he approached the coffee stop and peered in through the large front window. Gone were the flower planters, buried under a foot of snow and frozen until spring. In their place, a dozen paper snowflakes were taped on the glass, inhibiting Remus’ view. He had no choice but to go in blind.

Pushing open the front door, Remus was immediately greeted with the comforting aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and freshly baked bread. It didn’t quite smell like home, but it was homely enough. The shop was empty, all the chairs perfectly pushed underneath the tables, not a crumb on the ground or a straw wrapper dangling from the bins. There was no one behind the counter, either, so for a split second, Remus thought the shop must be closed and someone forgot to lock the door.

And then he appeared.

The boy must have been hunched behind the counters, only standing up when he heard the bells above the door jingle. He smiled at Remus, a toothy grin that someone would only flash to their closest friends, and pushed a strand of long hair over his shoulder.

“Happy Christmas,” he greeted.

Remus’ lips twisted in distaste, still frozen to the entryway. The boy wore a Santa hat on his head, with a little jingle bell attached to the end that ringed with every little motion. He was, without a double, the most attractive Santa Remus had ever seen, and he seriously debated turning on his heel and finding a different coffee shop to sit in, because how was he supposed to concentrate on his book while he was breathing the same air as that boy?

“Do you want your usual? Earl gray, little honey, no milk?” The boy asked, already reaching for a cup. He looked Remus up and down, from his hat to his boots, and licked his lips, stumbling a little as he made his way to the hob.

“You remember?”

“Of course.”

Remus nodded numbly and made his way over to the counter. He slipped a couple coins down and watched the boy pour his tea, his hips gently swaying to the quiet music overhead. Maybe listening to Christmas music wouldn’t be so bad.

“I’ve been here for hours and you’re my first customer,” the boy continued, stirring the cup. He set the tea in front of Remus, but pushed a cookie shaped like a stocking towards him, too. “The cookie is on me.”

Remus could have peeled over and died when the boy winked. The boy. According to his name tag that Remus had always been too afraid to look at, the boy was called Sirius. Sirius. What a lovely name.

“You don’t have to do that,” Remus said, shaking his head and pushing the cookie back towards him.

Sirius put his hands up in the air and stepped back, smiling. “You touched it. No returns, I’m afraid.”

Remus nodded and flashed Sirius the smallest grin before taking his tea and cookie to his usual table in the back, away from the cold air leaking through the door and directly under a vent that thoroughly thawed his body. He opened his book to the first page, smoothing out the paper and tossing his scarf to the wayside.

It was an old book that Remus’ mother had given him years ago, and most of the pages were dog-eared and the binding was starting to fall apart, but there seemed like no better day to read Great Expectations. Remus wasn’t sure how many times he had read the book, only that he knew he would cry at the end each time.

Remus kept track of the time by the number of tea cups on his table. One for every hundred pages, just about. Normally, it would take Remus a solid day to finish the book, but at this pace, it would take him a week. There was just no chance of keeping his eyes firmly on the page when Sirius was rustling around the kitchen, humming along to the music and jingling that damn bell every few seconds.

There hadn’t been another customer in hours, but Sirius didn’t seem to mind. He kept himself busy by hunching over the counter for some reason and sneaking cookies out of the display case. After cup of tea number four, Remus caught Sirius with a mouthful of cookie and surprised himself by flashing a bemused smirk, which made Sirius’ cheeks tint bright pink. Not a moment later, another cup of tea found its way onto Remus table.

“Our little secret,” Sirius whispered, even though there was no one around, brushing the crumbs off his shirt. “This one’s on me.”

“You can’t keep giving me free stuff,” Remus said quietly, secretly hoping that Sirius would continue to bring him things. “You’ll get fired.”

Sirius shook his head. “No one is here. I’m in charge, so what I say, goes.”

“I see.”

They were at an impasse. Sirius should have walked back to the counter. Remus should have returned to his book. They did neither. Sirius just stood there, trying to think of something to say, and Remus just watched him, waiting for him to say the right thing.

“What are you reading?” Sirius finally asked. The cover was on full display and easy to read, so it was a fruitless question. When Remus repeated the name of the book, Sirius shifted from foot to foot. “I’ve never read it. Is it good?”

“Yes,” Remus answered immediately, but didn’t know what to say after that. Sirius didn’t look like the kind of guy that read books. Sirius looked like the kind of guy that wrote in the margins and scribbled little beards and moustaches on the people painted on the cover. Remus gestured to the counter. “What were you doing over there?”

“Making snowflakes.”

“Snowflakes?”

“Yeah, out of paper,” Sirius nodded, pointing to the window of snowflakes Remus had seen when he walked in.

Remus left his book on the table and let his chin rest on the heel of his palm. “They’re really nice.”

Sirius’ face suddenly lit up, his azure eyes gleaming with a brilliant idea. “Do you want to make some? I wanted to cut a whole bunch and hang them from the ceiling, but my fingers got really sore after, like, twenty.”

Sirius didn’t wait for Remus to answer before he pulled him from his chair, wrapping gentle fingers around his wrist, and guided him around the counter to the snowflake cutting station. Bits of paper scattered the ground, tiny triangles and circles everywhere. Before Remus knew what was happening, a pair of scissors was thrust into his hand and Sirius was demonstrating how to fold the paper.

“First, make a triangle here, and then cut off the bottom,” Sirius instructed, and Remus did as he was told. “Then you just keep making a triangle until you end up with this, and then you cut these parts off too. Now you can make your design.”

Remus wasn’t so sure about it, but he made little snips into the paper, cutting here and there until the triangle looked somewhat finished. When he opened his masterpiece, four piece of paper fluttered out of his hand, and Sirius roared with laughter.

“I think you cut along the seam. Don’t cut this edge.”

“You’re a very bad teacher.”

Sirius pouted. “I don’t think so. You’re just a very bad student.”

“You’re making it very hard to concentrate!” Remus exclaimed, clamping his mouth shut. He has said too much. He wasn’t going to tell Sirius that every time he leaned over Remus’ shoulder, his warm breath splashing over cheeks and across his neck, bolts of electricity shocked Remus’ heart.

Sirius was quiet for only a moment as he took his bottom lip between his teeth. He knew. Remus knew that he knew, but neither said a word. Remus took another piece of paper and got to work cutting a new snowflake before he could stick his foot in his mouth. This time, the snowflake looked like…well, a snowflake. A little pointy here, nice little curves there. It was enough to make Sirius smile.

“We need to make fifty more,” he said, grabbing another pair of scissors.

Remus eyed Sirius’ hands as he worked the paper. “I thought you said your fingers hurt?”

“They do.” Sirius continued cutting. It made Remus’ entire body ignite in white hot flames.

They made five snowflakes. Then ten. Then twenty. Soon, they had fifty beautiful snowflakes, each with a unique design, and, though their fingers ached and their throats burned from singing along to the Christmas carols overhead, Sirius and Remus hung each snowflake from the ceiling with some tape and yarn, until it was a winter wonderland. The snowflakes dangled at different lengths; some touched Remus’ nose, others barely scraped his head. It was magical, really, especially when the sun sank below the horizon and a Sirius flicked a switch that ignited a hundred fairy lights running around the room, glowing a dull yellow.

“Not too bad,” Sirius said, standing with his hands on his hips to admire their handiwork. “I think you’re better at making snowflakes than I am.”

“You’re just not patient enough,” Remus teased, earning a bump at the hip. Sirius’ Santa hat jingled as he removed it from his head and gently placed it on top of Remus’ golden curls. He startled for a moment, and then quietly watched Sirius lower the hat.

“It looks better on you.”

In a moment of bravery, Remus reached out and smoothed Sirius’ hair from where the hat had tousled some strands. Sirius leaned in to the touch ever so slightly, and sighed when Remus’ hand settled on the crook of his neck.

“Why are you at a coffee shop on Christmas?” Sirius whispered, stepping closer.

“My plans got ruined,” Remus admitted, his heart stilling in his chest. The boys moved closer together still, until their chests pressed against each other and Remus could smell the chocolate rolling off Sirius’ breath.

“Sorry about that.”

“I’m not.”

Remus kissed him. Gently, so not to frighten him, but tenderly, so that Sirius could feel the weight of his heart.


End file.
